sometimes i resent the stubbornness of faith and hope.
it is always so tempting to wallow. but no, there is that fragile yet steely green shoot, poking up from the rich soil made from the compost of dead dreams. faith and hope insist on their existence, like a an elbow nudging you in the ribs.
when i'm in this mood, when life gives these circumstances, it is hard not to begrudge hope and faith their worth and goodness. but somewhere deep down i know i'm grateful for their companionship...even if at times i'm too weary to admit it.
b
